Reasons
by Ashe Corinthos
Summary: Death comes to those who earn it... (Gore! Short chapters. Very dark.)
1. Teal

**She died** because she was greedy.

She wanted everything just for her.

She wanted my first and only love for herself. She constantly claimed him as hers, followed him everywhere saying it was a coincidence that they would meet, went after him relentlessly even though she had so many others at her beck and call. His attention, which she couldn't quite grasp, was always on her priority list, no matter what I wanted.

She wanted to be the lead singer, the star of the show, no matter what or who stood in her way. She would plan elaborate ways to get what she wanted, whether it was to ruin someone else's costume, or break someone's ankle. Behind my back, she plotted ways to get me out of the picture so she could be the best. I would either play second fiddle to her, or I would face her wrath for even trying. Anyone who could make a single note sound better than her own would be severely punished by becoming socially outcast. Nasty rumors would spread about them, and they would either become thrown away outcasts, or be transferred from the school in shame.

 **She died** because she wanted to be perfect.

She was vain. Any blemish that dared show itself on her flawless features was covered up in layers of makeup to keep up her poster child facade. There was no way she would allow the slightest bit of humanity show in her angel-like appearance. In turn, anyone else's imperfections were pointed out by her, laughed at and mocked. She would talk about it, roll her eyes and let you know just how bad it was until you could feel insecurity creeping its way into your heart. She made sure you knew just how imperfect you are. She kept me around just so she could have an example of what perfect is, and what it 'clearly isn't'.

 **She died** because she attacked me.

She arrived at my house late at night, accusing me of stealing her favorite lipstick, and ripped at my clothes, telling me how much of an ungrateful person I am for even thinking of touching her things with my 'soiled, disgusting hands'. She kicked and hit me, screamed about how much she hated my guts and how ugly I was, how stupid I was. Insults spilled from her lips like venom. My singing was sub-par, my hair was greasy, my face was much too long and my cheekbones too thin, and she was so much better than me, so much more remarkable and sweet and kind than an ugly creature such as myself. She told me I should be grateful she even looks at me as anything more than trash beneath her high-heeled feet, and my reputation is only because of her. Without her, I was nothing.

 _ **SHE DIED**_ because I stabbed a pair of scissors into her throat and watched her bleed out on my kitchen tile. Her lips gurgled with foamy red saliva, ad her teal pigtails stained with her own blood. Her eyes dimmed and turned lifeless, and her gasps for breath eventually stopped. I stared down at her blood, and the gory metal, and felt no remorse.

She deserved it.

* * *

Author's Note: So, um, gore. ._. My first try at real horror. This is going to be seven chapters long, and the chapters are going to be short like this. Be prepared for more gory stuff. I don't actually have a clue what I'm doing, hahaha, so just bear with me while I write this. Let me know if it totally sucks and makes no sense, cause I really just ._. I had this as a random idea (I get these a lot) and well... here it is.

What even.

Anyway, review and like... say something. If you read through all this, haha. PM me if you want, that's cool too. I'll try to update this pretty frequently so... yeah.

Yay? *facepalms at self*

Disclaimer: I do not own Vocaloid nor a pair of bloody scissors. I just use them for my own purposes.


	2. Azure

**He died** because he bullied.

He never took no for an answer. Any order he issued to his 'minions', as he called them, was to be done as he said with no questions asked. It was his way or the highway, and if there was even the slightest hint of hesitation or resistance from you, you were brutally beaten into submission. No one ever dared to stand up to him because anyone who crossed his path was completely, utterly afraid of him. He ruled over anyone and everything he wanted. Popular and smart, he was conniving and found ways to get what he wanted... Even if it meant hurting someone else. He never felt a single shred of regret for the pain he inflicted on anyone weaker than him.

 **He died** because he was lustful.

No girl who entered his vision was safe. He would use his handsome charms and faux innocent blue-eyed looks to lure innocent, naive girls into his bed. He would use them, and throw them away as he pleased. Hoards of women constantly paraded around him, dressed in whatever skimpy clothes he would find appealing. Even they would do whatever he pleased, despite his belittling nature. He treated them like trash, then made them want to come back to him like lovesick puppies. Many of the girls he used tried to hide rough bite marks, swollen and angry red patches, and black and blue bruises.

 **He died** because he made advances on me.

He cornered me on my way home. He had been following me, and I had pointedly been trying to ignore his presence. He had grabbed me and forced me into a dark alley, tugged on my clothes while saying dirty, perverted things. His intentions were crystal clear. No girl had escaped his 'affections' before, and there was no way I would either. He told me to relax, I wouldn't mind so much later.

 _ **HE DIED**_ because I thrust my pocket knife into his chest again, and again, and _again,_ until his cries of agony died down and all that was left was my burning anger and the crimson liquid on my clothes. I wiped off a speck of blood from my cheek.

He deserved it.

* * *

Author's Note: Ha _ha_ what is this-

Um, so, have another chapter, mysterious readers who leave no feedback. ._. I wanna know if anyone can figure out who these Vocaloids are? (I'm sure it's easy to figure out ._.)

BTW, each of the Vocaloids featured in this fic I love a ton and in no way hate at all, so don't even ask why I'm turning them into horrible people. For the sake of fanfiction...? .-. Heh...heheh...

Anyways, hope you... 'liked'... ._. Let me know what you think in a review?

Disclaimer: I don't own any Vocaloids, and I don't even have a pocket knife. I just love to use them!


	3. Scarlet

**She died** because she killed ruthlessly.

Not humans, no, she wasn't into that. But any animal that she could get her sights on was instantly marked as prey. Big or small, the kind of animal never mattered to her. She killed for sport, and not just wild animals. Housecats and family dogs went missing, and she had a room in her house dedicated to showcasing every new 'catch' she brought in. Each new head to mount was a victory for her. She specifically wore red clothes so that the blood wouldn't be too obvious. Hunting was a game to her, and a new skin was her reward.

 **She died** because she was intrigued by death.

The fact that someone I knew had recently died both sickened and interested her. She watched me, studied my reactions to the death. In her mind, she pictured me as bad luck; death followed me. Anyone or anything I was around was marked with bad fortune, and that included herself. When another person I had known died, she drew more attention to me, began asking me strange questions and offering me charms to 'change the black stain on my soul that made me unfortunate'. She accused me of being the reason they died.

 **She died** because she left a dead black cat on my doorstep.

Lifeless and stiff, a corpse of a once beautiful cat had lain at my front door. When I came to her house and confronted her, she laughed it off. Drunkenly smiled at me and told me it was a superstitious thing, and that I should be glad she's trying to help me. She told me she would keep doing it, keep bothering me with bone necklaces and small bottles of animal blood until I was 'cured of my abnormality'.

 _ **SHE DIED**_ because when she turned her back on me to get another bottle of sake, I wrapped my cravat around her neck and strangled her, pulling on it with all my might. She had clawed at the cloth to breathe, strained squeaks emitting from her throat as she fought to draw in air. Her brown eyes had rolled back in her head, and her face turned purple. When she slumped down to the ground, I tied my cravat around the head of a wolf on her wall.

She deserved it.

* * *

Author's Note: Chapter 3! *single person clapping in the distance*

So, I'd like to answer my guest real quick: Vroom, you were very close! However, I won't reveal who everyone is until the final chapter!

Speaking of which, there may be a bonus 8th chapter, because a plot bunny struck me. It will probably help explain a LOT of my madness in this story.

Anyway, thank you, lovely readers, for, well, reading this really... 'odd' story. Stick around, I'll probably have chapter 4 updated tomorrow because I'm really impatient and already have everything written out!

Love you all, and leave a review if you like letting me know how this is going!

Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid, or a cravat... I just use them! :3


	4. Violet

**He died** because he was cruel.

He cared about nothing and no one. Emotionless and impassive, he never let on to having any human emotions. Seeing others cry sickened him, laughter hurt his ears, anger was boring. He abused and hated his own family; He had even been arrested for trying to throw his younger sister into the midst of traffic. Not a single bit of hesitance, letting everyone know he just didn't care about them at all.

 **He died** because he loved to see others in pain.

Sadistic and rough, he loved seeing the emotions of others when they are at the height of agony. Harming others, watching the blood drain from their face as he broke one, two, maybe all five of their fingers, gave him sweet pleasure. Blood, instead of making him feel disgusted, intrigued him. He would watch others bleed with complete interest, watching it pour from the wounds he inflicted with a wide, chilling smile. He even started carrying a sword around just for the pleasure of cutting someone open 'on accident'. Watching someone scream was one of his many disgusting pastimes.

 **He died** because he hurt someone I care about.

I caught him hitting my loved one, punching and kicking and laughing at the attempts of his victim to get up and escape. No one else was around to help, just the way he liked, and he watched almost with joy as my love fought to get away. He had just started to get his sword out when he realized I was standing there. He almost seemed to sigh, and reluctantly walked away, leaving his victim behind, bloody and beaten on the ground.

 _ **HE DIED**_ because I followed him home, waited until he'd reached his front door, then grabbed his long purple ponytail, yanked it back, and embedded my favorite knife into the back of his head. He made a strange gurgling noise, but didn't put up much of a fight. After he fell to the ground, convulsing, I took his sword from his side and replaced my knife with it. It seemed fitting.

He deserved it.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm actually starting to really have fun with this... is that weird? ._.

So here it is... I was gonna upload it last night, but then was like 'nah.' I'm actually really enjoying watching you guys try to guess. It's almost painful not letting you know all the answers! Next chapter tomorrow, most likely.

To my lovely guest: Still close! You're still a bit wrong... Everything will become clear near the end, I promise! I hope you enjoy the outcome!

Everyone else, I'm very glad you're enjoying this! I don't know how or why, but apparently this is actually kinda interesting, so... ._.

I love you guys, haha.

Anyways, thanks for reading! Leave a review if you like, it'll make my day. :3

Disclaimer: I do not own the beautiful, musical Vocaloids, nor a sword. (;_;) I just love to us them!


	5. Rose

**She died** because she was nosy.

A fake wallflower, she would have her nose stuck in a book or have her headphones all the time. However, no matter how real she made her actions seem, every action she used was completely planned. She would shift her feet, brush back her long pink hair, and pore over a page for several minutes, or hum happily along to a song. In actuality, her eyes would sneak glances at you when she knew you weren't looking, watching you even if she didn't plan it. Her headphones would be silent, and she would overhear many conversations she wasn't supposed to be a part of. She always had a bad habit of paying attention when she needed to keep out.

 **She died** because she pretended she was innocent and naive.

Even though she manipulated and blackmailed with the things she caught wind of, she said she 'really didn't like to do it'. A bit airheaded, she pretended to be happy and cheerful. A mask of a smile was constantly plastered to her face, easily making others believe her charade, while she slowly stabbed them in the back with their own words. All that came out of her mouth were lies.

 **She died** because she saw me burying a body.

She had wandered by and seen what I was doing. She screeched loudly, instantly terrified of me, saying she couldn't believe I had done something so violent. Why had I done it? What was wrong with me? I'm a crazy person, sick and twisted, completely insane. She had spun away, running from me, going for help.

 _ **SHE DIED**_ because I chased after her with my shovel, hitting her over the head with it until she stopped moving and was unrecognizable in the puddle of blood and skin. I was panting, glaring down at her, while a strange feeling swirled in my chest.

She deserved it...?

* * *

Author's Note: Chapter 5~! I'm kind of on a high at how many people are reading this and my new fluffy RinXLen one-shot 'Just A Game'. (Feel free to read it if you're done with my weird horror. ._.)

Anyways, wow, I've hit the halfway point with this! I'm so happy. Thanks for reading!

If you wanna leave a review, that's awesome. Let me know what you think? I love all reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid, but I actually have a shovel! *Evil smirk* I just love to use them.


	6. Gold

**He died** because I loved him.

Loving someone related to you is considered a crime, but I loved him anyway. I felt such strong feelings for him, it took all of my willpower not to outright tell him. How could I not fall for him? He was so much like me, my perfect other half, my soul mate, my sweet brother who shared my blonde hair and blue eyes. I fell in love with him from the very start, but it was forbidden. I hid it well for most of my life, but somehow, my emotions slipped out, revealing themselves.

 **He died** because he loved me in return.

His feelings echoed mine. Somehow, someway, he, too, had fallen for me. We entered a sinful, dangerous relationship of quiet, stolen kisses and tight embraces in the night. Our passions ran wild, and we cared not for consequences. All that mattered was that we had each other, and the warmth of our lips and the security of the caresses we exchanged was all that we needed. The fear of being found out followed us, but we buried it under our taboo love.

 **He died** because I confessed to my crimes.

I told him all that I'd done. All the people I'd murdered I revealed, and I hid nothing from him. I felt as if I could tell him anything. He retracted from me as if I was one of the monsters I saw them as, but quickly said it was alright, that he would protect me and fix everything. He wouldn't let me be hurt any more or burdened by my feelings any longer. He would keep me safe.

When he thought I was asleep, he left our bed and went for the phone to turn me in to the police, just as I feared he would. He betrayed me.

 _ **HE DIED**_ because I spun him around and thrust my knife deep into his heart. I watched him drop the phone and pull the blade from his own chest. He uttered my name once, and his voice didn't sound at all upset; just full of sadness. He collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap, red spurting from the fatal wound, and I realized I was screaming in pain of my own, the sound of my knife clattering from his hand to the ground barely audible as hot tears gushed down my face. I was reaching for his unmoving form, harsh, inhuman cries ripping from my throat.

He dEserVeD iT?!

 _ **Did he deserve it...?!**_

* * *

Author's Note: I planned to specifically post this at midnight, but nah. I'm a lil late, but oh well~

Are things getting any clearer, or is everything becoming more and more confusing? I'm hoping at least a little bit is coming to light...

The final two chapters may be posted at the same time tomorrow, so keep a look out for them! (Not sure if I'll do one or both yet, because I love seeing you guys in such suspense, haha.)

Anyways, let me know if you liked this or not! I love reviews and PMs, so~

Disclaimer: I own not Vocaloid. I just love to use them.


	7. Black

**I will die** because I am broken.

I hear the voices of each person I have killed echoing always in my head, screaming out in agony and fear, driving me crazy. I _am_ crazy. I am broken beyond repair. A cracked and flawed marionette who pulls at strings that have long since been taken away from her control. The voices keep talking to me. They won't stop screaming. I can't stop hearing their cries. I am a monster, I am wicked, I am demented. I have lost all control, lost all feeling. I am no longer human. I am broken. I am destroyed.

 **I will die** because I have killed six people.

I have brutally murdered so many. In my dreams they corrupt me, break into any semblance of good I thought I had. My fake smiles are splattered with their blood, the liquid coloring my skin even after I've scrubbed away layers of skin, staining my soul. Solid red, soaking me, enveloping me. I am impure, tainted with dark emotions and twisted thoughts.

 **I will die** because I am haunted.

I see the dead following me everywhere. My mind is plagued with them, their words, their faces. I kill them over and over _and over_ , but they keep coming back! They torment me, their actions and words plaguing me until I want to _scream_ with anger and fear, and I can't get rid of them. I cannot escape from them, from their torture and my own illusions. My own demented mind won't let them go. I can't get away, I can't stop hearing them, I'm going crazy. How can I escape their grasp? How do I free myself!?

I think I've found a way.

 _ **I wIll DiE**_ because I have cut into my own flesh.

I watch my own crimson blood stain the front of my shirt from the knife protruding from my chest, watch it run down over my legs and color the yellow carpet under me a gruesome shade. In the mirror, I can see my blank blue gaze, the dirty yellow strands of hair plastered over my pale face. I can't breathe, and my vision is starting to fade, turning dark. It hurts much more than my delusions let on, and I realize the agonized cries filling the room are coming from my own throat, drowning out any other sound. I raise a shaky, bloody hand and gaze at the redness, and a strained, terrified, uncertain, _psychotic_ laugh emits from my body. A small drip of bloodred liquid runs from the corner of my mouth, and everything goes black

 **I deserve this.**

* * *

Author's Note: This was originally supposed to be the ending chapter, but I figured this was no way to leave it, so my 'explanation' on the events and such will accompany the last chapter, which will be uploaded tomorrow.

I hope you've enjoyed reading up til now! I've had fun writing out this story, (creepily enough,) and I'm glad I decided to try horror. Maybe in the future I'll try one with a less confusing plot, haha.

Anyways, leave a review if you like, and I'll see you in the final chapter!

Let's meet again.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid, but I do have some fake blood... (I used it with my Sachiko (Corpse Party) cosplay last year.) I just love to use them!


	8. Flowers Of Evil

Thunder claps overhead. Dark, ominous clouds cover the sky, fitting for the depressing theme of the day.

In a large, sprawling cemetery, a small group of people stand solemnly while words are said about loss and life. They stand around a short cement tombstone recently carved. Six distinct people surround that stone.

A girl with long teal pigtails has her hands over her face, her body wracking with heavy sobs. Her cries are so loud and obvious, her show of grief so dramatic, that it draws quite a bit of attention from the other onlookers.

A blue-haired male has his arm protectively over the girl's shoulders, murmuring soft words of comfort into her ear. His eyes stray from her to the quiet pinkette across from him, and a small, disturbing smile flits over his features before returning to a sorrowful mask.

A girl all in red instead of black watches the service silently, but occasionally her eyes wander about to see the expressions on the other's faces. Her hands, which are behind her back, tighten slightly around a small white charm she plans to bury in the fresh dirt later on.

A purple-haired man looks increasingly bored as the service goes on, his eyes shifting from the sky to the ground, then peer at the others around him. A visible amount of space leaves him standing alone in the group, possibly because of the large sword at his side.

The pinkette stands back in the crowd, trying not to seem obvious. As she gazes down at the trampled grass beneath her, she carefully listens as the people behind her mumble under their breath cruel rumors about the 'crazy dead girl'.

Last is the blonde boy standing directly in front of the stone, seeming unable to take his eyes from the name embossed on its shiny surface. Silent tears flow openly down his face, and he makes no move to wipe them away. In one hand he clutches a lovely picture of himself and the girl hugging and smiling for the camera.

Each person comes forward, one at a time, and leaves a beautiful dark red rose at the front of the grave. Not long after, the small collection of people disperses, one after another, until only the blonde boy is left kneeling down by the stone. Rain begins to pour down from above, soaking him, but he barely notices. As he kisses the top of the stone and mutters the girl's name sadly, he places the picture and one last thing upon the pile of flowers.

A fully bloomed yellow rose.

* * *

 _Here lies Rin Kagamine._

* * *

Author's Note: And we have reached the conclusion to this odd and twisted tale, it seems. I hope you all enjoyed the short, weird, and bloody ride!

For those of you who need clearing up on the story and plot, here is an explanation;

The people who were killed, are, in order; Miku, Kaito, Meiko, Gakupo, Luka, and Len. If you guessed them all right, good job!

Each murder Rin committed didn't actually happen. It was her fantasies, her false illusions, to help her get through the bullying and terrible things they did to her, which _did_ happen;Miku insulted and hurt her, Kaito molested her, Meiko pestered and harassed her, and Gakupo bullied and beat Len. Luka caught her doodling a rather gruesome picture of one of her fantasies, and used it to blackmail her. Len and Rin were secretly lovers. Rin eventually told Len about the horrible thoughts and things she was imagining, and he tried to get her mental help, which made her think he was betraying her. When she finally had the vision of killing Len, Rin went crazy and killed herself, hoping it would finally end her suffering.

Um, so yeah. Messed up, isn't it? I'm sorry it's so confusing! If you have further questions, I'll do my best to answer them!

Thanks for sticking around and reading up to this point! Let me know just how crazy you think _I_ am in a review or PM if you like! Now that I'm done with this, I can hopefully make myself focus on the next chapter of The Fate Of A Prisoner.

But there is that one shot I wanna write...

Disclaimer: I don't own Vocaloid, nor any roses or gravestones. Just my crazy mind, and I _love_ using _that._


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